L'Angelo Del Fantasma
by Rubi Dharuddha
Summary: Even a ghost needs an angel. Before the robes and self flagellation. Before Silas died. There was a woman, an artist that just wanted to sketch him. Silas OC. R&R Please. Story is complete!
1. Chapter 1

**L'Angelo Del Fantasma**

**A/N: ****I own nothing except Amelia. **** The title (should) mean, "The Ghost's Angel" in case you were wondering. A short and simple story about the possibilities of Silas and his life before Opus Dei. This Silas is based off of Paul Bettany's characterization (I adore that man). Not meant to step on any toes or annoy any die hard fans, just a little idea that popped into a bored writer's head whilst watching, The Da Vinci Code, with her father.**

* * *

_I am a ghost._

Silas emerged from his chamber, his body battered and bleeding from his self-flagellation. He was a tortured man, inside and out. He believed his work was for God, and that was enough to scar his skin, to puncture his flesh with devices fit for a criminal.

Some would call it insanity; Silas called it faith.

It seemed so long ago, that Silas had felt anything but sorrow and emptiness; an emptiness that was half filled when he succeeded for Aringarosa and his Opus Dei. He _had_ though. A thousand lifetimes ago. When his friend and mentor, his guardian, had saved him from a life that only led to the destruction of his soul.

When he had met _her_, Silas hadn't been a monk. In fact he hadn't really had any idea what he wanted to do with his life yet. At the time of their meeting, Silas worked to keep the church his mentor Aringarosa presided over, in good keeping. He lit candles and picked up after services, he took the charity of the members and made sure it was safely locked away until it was needed. Normally he tried to keep himself out of sight, knowing that anyone who saw him would see that he was different, his skin lacking the tones of life that seemed necessary to prove normality.

One morning, he prepared to hand out the donation plates. A quick process that required minimal contact with anyone. This morning however, Silas noticed a new face amongst the many familiar, and very old members of the congregation. He was used to seeing the papery and wrinkled skin of the elderly patrons, sitting in the same pews, arthritic fingers grasping at the same worn Bibles. He wasn't used to seeing the healthy glow of young flesh, fingers bent only around a charcoal pencil. Plates in hand he hid behind a pillar, peering around its curve to see without being seen.

A young woman sat in the very back pew, one leg tucked under the other, which she swung gently. Her thick red hair was pulled up into a ponytail, some escaping to curl around a face that was sprinkled with freckles. In her hands were a sketchbook and a charcoal pencil. She was sketching quietly, looking up only to glance at carvings in the church's walls. Silas moved closer, attempting to look over her shoulder. For a moment he saw the charcoal outlines of several of the statues within the church. A small sketch of Aringarosa, his hands raised to the heavens in what seemed a passionate speech for the souls of every human being.

Silas was impressed by her ability to take in the tiny details and translate them to paper. He was so interested in what she was doing that he hadn't realized he had left the safety of his pillar and was now in plain view for everyone to see.

The young woman sensed she was being watched and looked up, her green eyes meeting his translucent blue ones. Silas' earlier bravery disappeared and he moved behind his pillar once more. He stayed there, heart beating, nearly out of his chest. He didn't leave the safety of his hiding place until the plates needed to circulate. He did this quickly, nearly throwing them at an elderly woman who had been listening to Aringarosa intently.

After the service, Silas finished his duties as the priest had last minute conversations with those of his flock. When the donations had been locked away, the plates back in their rightful places, and the candles blown out, Silas made his way out into the garden behind the church. The Albino man had spent hours in the patch of ground, planting all kinds of plants. Including flowers of every kind. He enjoyed the work and reaping the rewards of that work. It wasn't long until he realized his space had been invaded.

Silas looked up to see a flash of red. The woman he had been watching earlier had found her way into his outdoor sanctuary. Her sketchbook and pencil box were tucked under her arm. Their gaze met and the two stopped, looking at one another for a moment. What amazed Silas the most, was that she didn't seem disgusted that his skin held no color, that as an artist (as it was apparent she was) would find important to make a complete picture. Then she gave him a smile.

"Hello." Silas was taken aback. Someone other than Aringarosa was speaking to him. As an equal.

"H-hello." His accented voice tripping over his lips, that weren't used to moving.

"I was wondering," she began, "if you would let me sketch something." Silas shrugged his shoulders.

"You—you can use the garden if you'd like." The woman smiled again and shook her head.

"No, I don't mean the garden." He gave her a puzzled look, cautious.

"Well, anything else you—" He stopped. The young woman moved closer, Silas instinctively moving back.

"I'd like to sketch _you_." The absolute shock that ran through Silas nearly paralyzed him. He was sure he hadn't heard right.

"M-me?" she nodded.

"Yes, I saw you in the church and I—call it strange, wanted to sketch you." Silas looked around, positive it was a test. Aringarosa perhaps? What was he to do? The woman in front of him didn't seem like she was trying to get him to do something so sinful he'd be condemned. After a few moments of silence the young woman held up her hand in retreat.

"If you're uncomfortable, it's all right. I'll leave you alone."

Alone, the one thing Silas had been all of his life. From the moment of his birth to the life he lived now, he had been alone. A ghost. Alone was no longer an option for him.

"No, no. I was _surprised_ by your request that is all. You may sketch me if you wish."

And so began a chapter of Silas' life, the ink barely dried from it before a new one began, the chapter that was written in his own blood and tears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"My name is Amelia Conway." The woman put her hand out to shake Silas'. He pulled back further, he was so used to a touch causing pain that he didn't realize she was simply being polite. Amelia was unaware of Silas' past and was taken aback what she construed as rudeness. After a moment Silas tentatively took her hand and shook it.

Is this what it felt like to touch another?

"I- I'm Silas." He stuttered, quickly letting go of her hand, fearing her disgust at his touch. There was none, in fact she shifted her sketchbook and gestured towards one of the trees.

"So I don't take up too much of your time, may we begin?" Silas nodded timidly and walked to where she had indicated.

"What would you like me to do?" She motioned towards the ground under the tree.

"If you would sit there please, I'll place you when you're settled." Silas sat against the tree, his nervousness overtook him and he pulled his knees up against his chest. His clear blue eyes looked somewhere over Amelia's shoulder. She had been flipping through her sketchbook looking for a clear page and preparing to draw when she looked back to Silas. She stopped for a moment and tilted her head. Silas met her gaze and immediately assumed he had done wrong.

"I'm, I'm sorry did I sit wro—" She interrupted him,

"No! No, in fact… The way you're sitting is perfect, if it's comfortable enough for you I'd like it if you stayed that way." Silas met her gaze; he had never been told he was right. Amelia lowered herself into the grass before him,

"Now, if you could look over my shoulder, like you were doing before." Silas nodded and did as he was told. He always did what he was told. From the corner of his eye he could see his new acquaintance, leaned over her sketchbook, face set in automatic concentration. He wondered why anyone with the skills he had seen would be interested in sketching something as ugly as him, unless that was her intent.

As Amelia made the basic outline of the man seated in front of her, quickly drawing the first contours of his face and limbs. She made a mental note to pay special attention to his hands. He had perfect hands, long and thin, white as though fashioned out of ice. He was beautiful. Something told her he wouldn't agree. He had an absolutely haunted look behind those incredibly blue eyes. As she drew the area they would be in, she thought to herself that if she were to paint him, she wasn't sure she would be able to mix a color close enough. What a work of art he was, hiding here in this tiny little church in an even smaller village. Cowering behind the robes of a priest and collecting the charity of crotchety and ancient God-fearers.

"So, what brought you here?" Silas' head snapped back as he was surprised by her question.

"I'm sorry?" Amelia stopped sketching for a moment and looked up from her work.

"You have the accent but not the facial structure of a Spaniard, I was wondering where you were from." Silas' hand slid up to his face for a moment. A single look and she knew he didn't belong here either. He quickly put his hand back in place and thought for a moment.

"I was born in Marseilles, but circumstances—changed. Father Aringarosa brought me here when I was younger and I have done my best to help him keep his church in order." Amelia nodded.

"I see." They were silent, the faint scratching of her charcoal against paper until Silas gained enough courage to ask,

"And what of you? Where are from?" Amelia blew a wisp of her red hair out of her face and continued to sketch as she answered.

"I was born in Ireland, raised in London and now I live in France. I'm studying abroad here to become an artist." She lifted a charcoal stained hand to solidify her point. She gave a light laugh,

"I guess you could say I'm practicing to become a vagabond." Silas' lips curved up, something they rarely did. He felt a strange bubbling in his chest, like he should open his mouth and let this feeling out. He didn't know that it was laughter, that it was all right find humor in this woman's words. His face must have contorted into one of mirth and confusion because Amelia looked up again and gave him a perplexed look.

"I didn't offend you did I?" Silas shook his head wildly.

"Oh no… I'm—I'm just not used to talking to someone, other than my mentor, and God of course." Amelia smiled sadly.

"That's unfortunate." Silas shook his head again,

"No, it is, humbling, that I do not allow ego overtake my soul. The solitude allows me contemplate God and what he requires of us all." Amelia was quiet for a moment as she darkened a shadow in around his eyes. Silas took her silence as that of someone who had no religion.

"Do you believe in God?" Amelia's pencil stopped. She didn't look up as she answered,

"I'll answer that question when we know one another better." Before Silas could reply Father Aringarosa called his name. He stood quickly, brushing the dirt from his clothing. Amelia looked over her shoulder as the black robed man came around the corner of the church. From the look on Silas' face, this was the man he had referred to as his mentor. Considering his face had lit up with respect and some fear when he had appeared. Amelia also took this as her cue that Silas would be leaving. That sculpture of a man would once again be hidden. She stood, her sketching in hand, raising herself up in time to meet the man that deserved so much of Silas' devotion. Silas bowed his head,

"Father, this is Amelia Conway. She was at the service today, she wishes to sketch me." Aringarosa looked at the young woman Silas stood beside. He wasn't sure what to make of her. The red hair, the freckles everything about her told him she had a fiery temperament. And, although he was grateful that Silas had found someone, even in a short while, to share his time with rather than roam the paths of his life alone, he wasn't sure if that fire would cause Silas to pull back into his own silent world more, or free him from his own personal demons. He noticed as he greeted the young woman that Silas' eyes flicked back to the young woman, and for once he wasn't looking to _him_ for approval.

"It is wonderful to see Silas is helping a fellow soul." Amelia smiled and met his gaze.

"He is very kind to share his time with me." Aringarosa agreed and looked to Silas.

"I'm afraid I have to cut that time somewhat short, we have a wedding to prepare for tomorrow." Amelia nodded,

"Of course," she turned to Silas, "when you're free next, maybe we could finish this sketch?" This time Silas did look to Aringarosa, who nodded and held out his hand to usher Silas inside. Silas gave one of his rare smiles to Amelia,

"The wedding is mid-morning. If you would like to continue in the afternoon?" Amelia smiled back in agreement. Silas bowed his head to her once more and moved into Aringarosa's waiting circle of safety. As the two walked away Silas looked back, Amelia where they had left her, her art in hand and a light breeze playing with her hair.

Amelia watched him as well. This man seemed to be two people. One was the man, doing his duty, looking for what every man desired. The other was the child, the broken child hiding behind translucent blue eyes. She had seen both in the short time she had spent with him. Amelia lifted her sketchbook and faced her work. What she saw nearly made her cry.

Those eyes, stared back at her. Those tired, haunted eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

**A/N: Thank you to all of my reviewers. I'm truly flattered and appreciative of your kind words. Truly, I blush everytime I read them. I only hope I can keep writing a story you like! Enjoy! I swear it will be finished! **

The wedding seemed to drag on forever. Silas looked at the gold pendulum clock sitting on Father Aringarosa's desk, finding that the hour he hoped had passed was really only five minutes. This just annoyed him. The feeling he was having scared him, at first, he had never felt like this. The prospect of seeing Amelia again had sent a jolt of adrenaline through him. He wanted to see her; he wanted her to sketch him again, to finish her work. Silas had never wanted such a thing. Silas was so deep in thought he didn't notice Father Aringarosa had entered the office, the priest quick to shed the elaborate robes of celebration.

"Well Silas, another marriage is started smoothly." Silas nodded, his head bowed in his usual respectful way.

"Of course Father." Aringarosa hung the robes on a hanger.

"We shall have to send these to the cleaners at some point." Silas nodded again,

"Yes Father." Aringarosa peered at the clock that Silas had been staring, unblinking at for the last two hours.

"Don't you have someone waiting for you Silas?" Silas looked at Aringarosa, attempting to hold his excitement back.

"But, Father, I must sweep and remove the decorations from the wedding ceremony." Aringarosa smiled and reached across the table to pat Silas gently on the shoulder.

"For once my son, I can forgive you leaving your duties. Go." Silas shook his head.

"No Father, I cannot just leave my work unfinished." Aringarosa lifted Silas' still down turned face so their eyes met.

"Yes, you can, go and meet your new friend." Silas stood and gave his trusted guardian one of his rare smiles and left the room in such a hurry Aringarosa thought the papers on his desk would be knocked to the floor. He smiled at Silas' retreating back.

That woman must truly have snared this angel.

Silas pushed the door to the garden open and let his gaze rake over the landscape. There she was, sitting under the tree, her materials with her. His heart beat faster. He stepped out into the sun, blinking fast as his eyes grew accustomed to the light. He shut the door quietly and walked towards Amelia. She saw him coming and waved. Silas waved tentatively back and continued his short journey to her. Amelia stood and gave Silas a hug; he stiffened at the sudden contact. Amelia didn't seem to notice as she let him go and grabbed her infamous sketchbook.

"I was starting to think you weren't coming." Silas looked to her,

"Why wouldn't I?" Amelia smiled as she sharpened her charcoal pencil.

"Sometimes I come off a little strong, I was afraid I had scared you away." Silas sat in his original spot, pulling his legs up against his chest, this time not out of nervousness. Amelia settled herself in as she had before and began to sketch. The silence wasn't unbearable but Silas had a question.

"Why did you want to sketch me?" Amelia's eyebrows drew together as she continued her sketching. After a moment she stopped and looked at Silas, giving him a look of complete bewilderment.

"Why would I _not_ want to sketch you?" Silas was thoroughly confused.

"I-I'm an Albino—I'm not normal." Amelia's eyebrows nearly disappeared into her hairline.

"Define normal for me." Silas was silenced. She was arguing that he was fine the way he was.

"But, my skin, my eyes—" Amelia shook her head.

"All of these things are beautiful to an artist. Your skin is like marble, sculpted as any artist would. Your eyes," she let out a breath, "your eyes are a color I've never seen. You are the epitome of what artists spend their whole lives looking for." Silas' blood pumped through his veins at dangerous speeds. His heart beating faster, his breath quickening. She was telling him he was beautiful. How was this possible? How could she find him pleasing when the rest of the world found him grotesque?

As Silas' thoughts consumed him Amelia finished her sketching. His charcoal likeness was done.

"Would you like to see it?" Silas nodded and leaned from his spot to see her work. He couldn't believe his eyes. It was as if she had taken a photograph of him, capturing every detail. Down to the scar under his eye, and the cracked button on his shirt. He looked at her in wonderment.

"God has given you a great gift. To see details others cannot and capture them. You are blessed." Amelia smiled, her freckled features coloring. For a moment he was jealous of her, to have such color, upon her person. Something he would never have. He couldn't stay that way for long, seeing her smile, made him feel light. It was something he cherished.

"I am blessed. And, I was even more blessed to have met you, to find such a creature to draw. No artist is that lucky." Silas shook his head and looked from her work to her.

"Your feelings are misplaced." Amelia shook her head in disagreement.

"I don't think so." Silas looked back to her sketch, back to the portrait of himself, a mirror that had never reflected so clearly. Although she had captured his sorrow perfectly, she had also caught the laughter and newest lines of mirth on his face. What a combination it was. Amelia stood as Silas stared; she broke his concentration by holding out her hand. He looked up, the sun catching his blue eyes making them even more transparent.

"Show me the grounds?" Silas didn't move for a moment, it wasn't that he didn't want to go, but he was afraid that aside from being a model he would prove to be less than she expected. He took her hand and stood, at first he went to let go but found that her grasp hadn't loosened. So he hesitantly left their hands joined.

They walked that way, throughout the grounds, talking and discovering more and more about one another. Silas shared his past, including that terrible night, when his father has attacked his mother, leaving him no choice but to defend her.

The night he had truly become a ghost.

Amelia listened intently, never once showing him the pity he so hated. Silas had never wanted that from anyone, he simply wanted to be seen, to be more than a phantom in the eyes of others. His Albinism had caused enough pain, the fact his own father hadn't seen him took what little of his soul he had left. Amelia felt terrible that Silas had been forced to do what he had to do, but she didn't pity him. Something told her that would insult him.

As for Amelia, her father had died when she was six years old from a heart attack. At the time her family had gone to church every Sunday and had been faithful followers of God.

"When my father died, my mother stopped taking my brother and I to church. She blamed God I suppose, for taking him away from us. So much so that her faith died when he did. My brother stopped caring all together and moved on as though we had never gone in the first place, but I… I prayed, I continued to believe in God and faith. I comforted myself by thinking God needed my father in Heaven more than we needed him on Earth." Silas saw her eyes go distant. She shook her head as though to clear it and continued.

"It was difficult. My father and I were very close. I loved him so much, that when he died I thought I would die too." Silas looked to her again,

"He is with God now." Amelia smiled sadly.

"I hope so." Silas tightened his grip on her hand; he didn't know what had caused him to become so brave.

"Do you attend church now?" Amelia was quiet, she answered just as quietly.

" I don't believe it's a matter of denominations or churches. I believe it's a matter of faith, that I can pray just as well and just as faithfully from my room, I don't need to go to a building to prove my belief in God." At this Silas wasn't sure, he agreed, but his good Catholic teaching told him otherwise. He didn't know what to make of this woman. She smiled once more and then made note that the sun had begun to set.

"Oh, Silas, I'm sorry, I've kept you out all day. I hope I haven't gotten you in trouble." Silas looked at the glowing orb, settling behind the horizon. He didn't feel as though he had wasted a day. In fact he felt like he had fulfilled more in this one afternoon, than he had in the years of his life. How incredible.

"No, no do not worry Amelia, Father Aringarosa knew I would be gone today." Silas gave Amelia a shy smile,

"Would you like to return tomorrow?" he asked softly. His fear of her saying no had curled up in his belly like a snake waiting to strike his hope with its venom. Amelia met his gaze, pleased that he didn't look away as he had so many times before.

"I would love to." The viper of fear died. Silas grinned widely this time.

"When you come tomorrow, I will show you the whole church, whatever you wish." His excitement was quite contagious and Amelia felt her own heart beat faster as she contemplated their visit tomorrow.

Neither one of them realized, that this visit would lead to many more and that it would change them forever.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

The next few weeks left Silas filled with joy. Every moment was a new experience and awe inspiring at that, for a man like Silas. What a long time it seemed since his father's death, the prison, the beginning of his end.

This particular day the two had explored the church grounds to their limit, leaving the property (never before had Silas ventured so far without his guardian) following a small creek into a wooded grove. They were silent as was common for them, soaking in the beauty of the woods. Amelia lay down, facing the sky, searching for shapes among the woolen clouds. Silas carefully lowered himself to the ground beside her.

"What do you see when you look at the sky Silas?" Amelia asked, her arms lay at her sides, palms up to the sky as though giving thanks for the beauty surrounding her; Silas only wished he could see as she did.

"I see clouds, nothing more, nothing less." Amelia turned her head, looking at Silas' still form.

"Truly?"

"Truly." Amelia grew annoyed,

"Then you're allowing yourself to be closed-minded Silas. You say you believe in God, but you don't let yourself see his gifts."

"Gifts?" Silas felt his skin grow hot. This woman cut him open to his soul. He had spent the last several years of his life devoted to understanding God and his power.

"Yes, His gifts, His sense of humor in making clouds form shapes, His artistry in life. You don't seem to see that, just the condemnation. That if you trip on the path of life, you're doomed to burn in Hell. That's a very suffocating way to live." Silas looked away from her. She had the ring of truth. It wasn't that she disputed his faith it was his approach.

"Amelia—I understand, but I have spent my whole life fearing my next day would be my last. I do not want to die failing my faith." Amelia clasped her hands across her stomach.

"Do you want to know what I see when I look into your eyes?" Silas turned his face once more, stopping in a pool of sunlight that dripped from the great ocean of sky above them. Amelia pointed to him,

"I see possibilities—you see Silas, it isn't always what you _do_ that proves your faith, it's having faith at all." Silas could only shake his head, not in disagreement, but disbelief that a woman who didn't attend church, who had no denomination, understood faith, belief. She understood as if born to hear God's thoughts and needs, _Silas'_ thoughts and needs. He studied her features from his vantage point. Amelia saw him staring.

"What is it?" Silas just watched,

"I was wondering how someone as perfect as you could have become the artist. Someone should be drawing _you_." Amelia laughed,

"I'm flattered, but I prefer the side of the canvas I'm on now."

"Why, you're beautiful, your skin has color, it is flawless. Your eyes are, a shade that makes this very grass look wilted. You are perfect, something I will never be."

"Silas let me share a secret with you, no one's perfect. Not a single person." Amelia got to her knees in front of Silas and pulled the corner of her shirt up, revealing an angry scar.

"This skin you find so faultless is flawed because of an appendectomy when I was five." Silas looked at the scar as though she had shown him a miracle. He hadn't believed it possible that someone could make him feel as though he were as normal as the next person. Amelia shook her head at his look of wonderment.

"Anyone who says there's nothing wrong with them is lying." Amelia pulled her shirt back into place and faced Silas once more touching his face. Silas shivered, still unused to the contact of another person.

"But we are all created in the image of God… Or at least those worthy." Silas said softly, taking in the feeling of her skin against his. Her paleness darkened by his own colorless flesh. Amelia tilted her head and looked into his clear blue eyes.

"Perfection is earned Silas, not given. I don't think I've ever met someone worthier than you." Silas leaned into her touch. Amelia tilted her head, and smiled at him,

"You are who God intended you to be, if we have to keep this conversation religious. If He didn't believe you could be strong, He wouldn't have made you so unique." Finally Amelia dropped her hand and stood.

"I believe you have a mass to attend to." Silas nodded, and stood as well, slightly dumfounded.

"Yes, yes I do." As Amelia walked away, Silas felt himself desire something. Something he never would have desired to do several weeks ago. He grabbed Amelia's arm and pulled her back to him. Her surprise quickly melted to match his look of longing. His hand slid behind her neck pulling her face to his, Amelia didn't fight him. Before their lips met, Silas stopped.

What was he doing?

This was sinful, to act upon carnal desires, to become an animal. He pulled away, leaving Amelia confused and very clearly hurt. She composed herself, straightening the hem of her already straight shirt. She shifted her weight to her heel and turned to go as she had planned.

"If you're afraid it's sinful to love someone—you're more closed-minded then I thought."

She imparted a final look at Silas and walked away. The moment he could no longer see her Silas stumbled to one of the trees in the wood, the rough bark splintering against his pale fingertips. The pain in his hands only helped him focus on something other than the ache in his heart. Tears slid from the tidal pools of his eyes, his anguish obvious.

What had he just done?

All he wanted was to feel the love she offered, he just wanted to be loved.

He wanted her.

He clung to that tree for what seemed like hours until Father Aringarosa picked his way towards the grove, his robes brushing through the brambles and brush.

"Silas?" he called for Silas as he would a lost soul. He had seen Amelia leave, face set in absolute pain, Aringarosa had realized Silas must have shown his impossibility and undying devotion. Although the priest was pleased Silas had found religion, he was saddened the man couldn't—_wouldn't_ allow himself to have as normal a life as possible.

He found his lost sheep, arms wrapped around a tree.

"My son, why are you hiding out here? You've missed mass, the sun is nearly gone." Silas didn't answer, just stared at him blankly. Eyes wet from tears. Aringarosa set his hand upon Silas' head,

"Silas why do you allow yourself to suffer? You know what you want, now take it." Silas shook his head,

"No Father, I do not know what I want." Aringarosa knelt beside the child-like man.

"Silas, you have not taken the same vows as some, you needn't suffer when you have been blessed with someone to care for." Silas looked at Aringarosa, with swollen eyes and pallid skin. They spoke no more.

That night Amelia reluctantly opened the door to her apartment. Eyes tired from crying over her earlier rejection. She hadn't wanted to cry but her feelings for Silas had grown to the point that his pulling away from her had truly crushed her.

Those tears were nearly started fresh as she realized who stood before her.

"Silas, what are you doing here?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

**A/N: All right, this is where it gets tricky. I've read so many reviews with the same complaint: "Why is there always a sex scene?"—Well, because some would like to pretend Paul Bettany is locked in their closet… This is not true for me (well, not for _this_ story;0). I've already written the ending and this particular chapter is integral to that ending happening. So bear with me, I swear it isn't graphic and you won't wince in disgust. I hope.  
**

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Silas leaned against the doorframe needing the support. After returning to the church and his tiny room, he had attempted to sleep only to toss and turn until he realized it was pointless. He had found the scrap of paper with the address she had given him and somehow, had made his way to her, supported by the doorframe.

"I don't know what you have done to me woman, but I cannot stop myself from thinking I will die without seeing you." Amelia looked at him in utter shock.

"What I've done to _you_? You could have said no to all of this, then neither one of us would feel like our hearts are being ripped apart!" The two hadn't realized they were shouting until a woman from a neighboring apartment popped her head out into the hall. Silas gave her a stare that frightened her back into her own domain. Amelia grabbed Silas' arm and pulled him into the apartment.

There they stood staring at one another.

"Silas, nothing I've done was meant to hurt you. If you didn't want _any_ kind of relationship, you should have refused to let me sketch you." As she spoke, Silas let his head fall against his chest. Amelia sighed at his silence.

"Maybe we should stop this." At this Silas lifted his head, his horror of losing her plain.

"No… Amelia." His redheaded angel, for that was what he had come to see.

The ghost had an angel.

"I cannot—I cannot lose you." Silas felt weak, his belly in knots. This must have shown on his face and Amelia reacted by leading him to the couch.

"Silas, this is my point. You and I are so different, I feel like I help you see you can live free of fear, and then you hide behind religion again. It won't work like that."

Silas didn't want to hear this anymore. Amelia had been true to him from the very beginning. She understood and respected his fears. Now he knew he must grow, he could be the child pretending to be a man no longer.

Amelia in a moment of sadness laid her head on Silas' shoulder. He could feel her breath on his neck, the loose threads of her hair tickling his chin. He turned his face to breath in the scent of rose hips and he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. This silence was healing, as they sat there in the warm glow of the lamplight, holding each other tightly, trying to keep one another from crumbling.

"I love you." Silas whispered into her hair. Amelia lifter her head to meet his gaze, his eyes were still wet, but they were clear of his earlier unsure ness. He knew what he felt now. He had come to realize that no one understood how feelings for another human being worked, how it could grip a heart and soul and rip them to shreds if you failed it. If he left her now, he knew he _would_ be ripped to shreds.

"I love you too Silas." This time when Silas pulled her to him he didn't hesitate. He didn't give the Silas that spoke of condemned souls leave to preach. He ignored it, killed it for now. Something tangible, warm, and trusting was in his arms. Their lips met, and Silas knew he would never doubt her again.

Amelia's mouth was warm and pliant against his. His hands slid up her back, and over her shoulders until they had delved into the thick, bright fire of her hair. Amelia wrapped her arms around his neck, her own fingers rested at his nape, their gentle pressure giving Silas the essential feeling that he was needed as much as he needed this woman.

Silas broke their kiss; Amelia fearing he was rebuffing her once more grew wary.

"Is something wrong?" Amelia asked. Silas shook his head vehemently.

"No. For once it is right." Silas stood sliding his hand behind her back and knees, lifting her. He made sure his intentions were clear, he would leave her be if she protested. He prayed she wouldn't.

There was none.

Silas carried Amelia to her room, the faint glow of a street lamp filtered thorough her curtains. He laid her upon the bed, and watched her. Now that he had brought her here his lack of experience shamed him (only because he didn't know how to please her.) Amelia raised herself from the comforter-covered bed until they were face to face.

"Let's learn together shall we?" Silas met her eyes as she reached for the hem of his shirt. Her hands were shaking and the same inexperience in his eyes was mirrored in her own. They truly were learning together.

Silas lifted his arms, never breaking her gaze until the waffled fabric of his shirt passed his eyes. He did the same for Amelia, until they faced one another, with no barriers, no cloth to hide behind. Just themselves. They looked at one another exploring. Amelia saw his tall, thin body, his skin iridescent in the light from the streetlamp. Silas saw her soft, and feminine as the women in paintings he had seen in the books Father Aringarosa had brought him to study. For them, the only word they could use burned in their minds.

Beautiful.

They laid down as one, Silas leaning over Amelia. They trembled in unison, scared for the consequences, desiring the outcome. Silas touched Amelia's face,

"I will not hurt you." Amelia gave him a light smile.

"I know."

With that a gentle exploration commenced. A light kiss on a neck, a finger trailed slowly up one Botticelli hip, a pair of hands slid up a smooth mother of pearl back. No frantic, carnal acts were performed that night, just the simple love of two people for one night.

For the heart knows what it wants, the soul provides a reason, and fate makes the means.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Light woke Silas; he blinked a few times clearing the sleep from his eyes. He looked down and saw one small hand lying on his bare chest. Amelia breathed slowly still asleep. He smiled and gently picked her cream hand up in his chalk one, kissing the inside of her wrist and up her arm until he reached a shoulder covered in freckles, he hadn't noticed them the night before. By now Amelia had woken, his gentle kisses rousing her from her dreams.

She watched quietly as he kissed the small smudges of color. He saw her watching and smiled shyly.

"I did not see these last night, I felt they would be—jealous." His first attempt at humor caught Amelia off guard. Less then a second later she was laughing.

"You did now, well I'm sure they're flattered for such annoying little things." Silas' brows wove together.

"You do not like these freckles?" Amelia shrugged.

"I could live without them." Silas shook his head at her.

"You tell me I am perfect as I am, but you are not content with yourself." Amelia laughed again, now he was lecturing _her_. Fantastic. Silas traced constellations with her freckles.

"I believe a body with no freckles is like a sky with no stars."

"Maybe." Amelia said smiling, red-hair fanned out on the pillow like a fiery halo. Silas gave a laugh that stopped them both. Had he just laughed?

"Maybe?" Silas asked after swallowing the shock that had appeared after his moment of mirth. Amelia gave a coy nod, shrugging her shoulders. She made to leave the comfort of their cocoon, only to be pulled back by strong hands. Silas gave her one of his piercing looks and leaned over to kiss her once more. When he pulled back Amelia was breathless, he learned quickly it seemed. Silas leaned on one elbow and used his free hand to stroke her cheek.

"Thank you Amelia."

"For what?"

"For loving me." Amelia's face softened and covered his hand with her own.

"Thank you for letting me."

They lay like that, entwined and touching, reassuring what they had. Silas particularly loved holding Amelia's length of glossy red tresses in the palm of his hand. She gave him the color he had been denied so long.

Finally Amelia declared it was time to get out bed and make breakfast at the sound of Silas' grumbling stomach.

"When the stomach grumbles. It's time to eat." She said in a matter of fact tone. She pulled her legs out from under the sheets, throwing on a tank top and soft gray pants she tied her hair up and made her way to the kitchen. Silas heard the clanging of pots and pans and soon the sizzle of food hitting hot surfaces. He let himself fall back against the soft pillows for a moment.

He could live like this. Waking up every morning with this Seraph of a woman in his arms, for the rest of his days. To feel her soft breath against his skin, to see her green eyes flash with whatever emotion she was feeling at the time. He could be with her.

With this final thought, he too swung his legs over the bedside, grabbing his clothes. He entered the kitchen, pulling his shirt over his long torso. The scent of bacon and eggs emanated from the stove where Amelia stood. She threw a look over her shoulder.

"If you could get the milk please, there's Orange Juice in there as well." Silas nodded silently and padded over to the refrigerator. He set the requested items on the table ad moved to stand behind Amelia, tentatively wrapping his arms around her. Although they had shared the most intimate of embraces, Silas was still unsure of how to touch another person. Amelia reassured him by clasping a kitchen utensil free hand over his. Silas buried his face against her neck, Amelia laughed at the tickling feeling.

"Breakfast should be done any minute." Silas lifted his head,

"Can I help you?" Amelia shrugged,

"I don't think so… You can make toast, if you want any," she pointed to a cabinet to her right, "the bread is up there." Silas reluctantly let her go and took hold of the bread and searched for a toaster. Locating one on an opposite counter, Silas began the process of toasting bread. He watched the burners glow orange, trapped in his thoughts of the future. They were stilled by the sudden pop of the toast leaving the heat of the toaster. He snapped back into reality and grabbed the pile he had made. Amelia set a plateful of bacon and eggs on the table as Silas settled in. He inhaled the scent and smiled fondly at Amelia.

"It smells very good."

"Well, enjoy, it's one of the few dishes I can make without ruining it." Silas looked at her from over a forkful of fluffy yellow eggs. Amelia shrugged in concession,

"It's true, I can't cook, not from lack of trying, more like lack of skill." Silas looked at the mouthful of eggs warily. Amelia threw her head back and laughed.

They aren't poisonous Silas, I swear." Silas grinned and put the fork in his mouth. He thoroughly enjoyed the first bite. When he looked at Amelia somewhat relieved she let loose another laugh.

"_Yes,"_ Silas thought, _"I could be happy with this."_

What Silas didn't realize was that his life would be changed dramatically in the next few days.

As the two ate together that bright morning, Father Aringarosa was informed he was to be appointed as _Bishop_ Aringarosa, and that he was needed to fill a position in a very secret council. Bishop Aringarosa, as he was soon to become, realized that he would need a soldier of God.

Opus Dei needed Silas.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

**A/N: And because I'm feeling generous… Ha-ha, here's another chapter for your enjoyment. Since the last one was short and more focused on thoughts of the future. This one's short too, but it's the beginning of the end my friends, keep on reading :0)  
**

* * *

"You wished to see me Father?" Silas asked Aringarosa who paced before him, hands behind black-robed back. He had thought this through, he knew Silas hadn't stayed in his room last night and his heart had sunk when he saw the pale man walk into the church and go about his duties with more life than he ever had before. Aringarosa had almost rethought his whole right then, knowing Silas had found something beautiful. Who was he to take that away? 

However, the same overpowering call to religion that Silas had felt so many times now called to Aringarosa. It was his duty as a newly appointed Bishop and member of this council to protect the church and its congregation.

"What I am going to tell you must not leave this room, do you understand Silas?" Silas nodded slowly. For Aringarosa to share anything of this importance was an honor but it frightened him as well.

"Yes Father." Aringarosa finally settled into the char behind his desk.

"When I am appointed Bishop, I will also become a member of an organization known as the Council of Shadows." Silas remained silent as Aringarosa explained.

"The Council of Shadows is a secret group of Bishops and other ranking members of the church. I must emphasize Silas that this council does not exist in the eyes of the church. " Silas nodded his quiet understanding. Aringarosa continued,

"This council seeks to protect the church from slanderous lies and defamation. So called evidence that Jesus Christ was neither divine nor unmarried during his time on Earth. There is another organization," he said after he took a drink of water from a glass on his desk, "it is known by many names, but more presently the Priory of Scion. These would be saints," Aringarosa spat as though a bad taste in his mouth, "believe that by finding evidence, they will prove our Lord's divinity a sham. This cannot be Silas." Silas had been listening, stunned at what he was hearing. Finally he asked,

"What must I do?" Aringarosa sighed this was the difficult part. Telling him what he had to let go. The very thought proved his hypocrisy, he had pushed Silas into taking the gift handed him in the form of an artist with an uncanny ability to catch details and emotions on paper. Now he was demanding Silas let her go.

"I need you to give yourself to God." Silas was puzzled.

"Have I not proven that through my faith to this church and to God?" Aringarosa shut his eyes, attempting to clear Silas' confused eyes from his mind.

"What I mean Silas is that I need you to give up your Earthly pleasures and commit entirely to the church." Even from behind his closed lids Aringarosa could tell that Silas had nearly stopped breathing. Aringarosa opened his eyes and saw Silas had gone rigid, his eyes locked on his guardian's face.

"You wish me to commit myself to the church."

"Yes."

"To cast aside my Earthly pleasures."

"Yes."

"This I cannot do."

"Silas, I understand that you hold Miss Conway very dear—but the whole of the church rests upon this blasphemy never coming to light." Silas shook his head.

"I understand the consequences Father, but I will not leave her." Never before had Silas been so defiant. Aringarosa rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Silas, the church needs you, _I _need you. No one but you understands the magnitude of this situation, nor do they have the devotion you do to protect it." Silas felt the old feeling of being ripped in two. His faith in God and his affection for Aringarosa as a friend pulled him one way, while his love for Amelia pulled him another. Equally strong, equally pulling him apart. Aringarosa stood; he seemed tired and frustrated at Silas' sudden stubbornness.

"Very well Silas, you may go. If you change your mind, please come to me at once." Silas gave his usual sign of respect, bowed head, to his longtime guardian and left his office.

Aringarosa turned to the fire that burned low in the grate of his fireplace.

It seemed he would have to persuade Silas to see had no choice but to join him in his fight to protect the divine. Where else to start, but the one that held his heart?


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

**A/N: My loyal readers. I do so adore you all. I'm almost sad to be near the end of my story but alas, I swore it would be finished, so then I could prove I actually finish what I start, and also so I can finish _another_ fic I have dying to be written. So please, journey on and enjoy.  
**

Amelia was cleaning her apartment when she heard a knock on the door. Silas had left earlier that morning he had told her he would return later in the evening, having disregarded many of his duties previously. Her apartment being only a short walk away from the church, he had reassured her he would return as soon as possible. Whoever it was at the door, it wasn't Silas. Amelia walked to the door looking through the peephole. She was more than surprised to find Father Aringarosa stood outside her door.

"What the he—" she looked heavenward realizing Silas' respect of the divine was contagious, "ck." She opened the door and smiled sunnily at Aringarosa. She was met with a less than gracious glare.

"Father Aringarosa… What a surprise, can I help you with something?" Aringarosa brushed his way in. Now Amelia knew something was wrong and she would soon find out what. She had barely even gotten the door shut when Aringarosa had turned on her.

"When I suggested that Silas befriend you, I never meant for you to seduce him." Amelia's mouth dropped open and her cheeks blazed fire.

"Pardon me?" Aringarosa's eyes narrowed.

"You understand very well what I mean." Amelia looked at Aringarosa in disbelief, this certainly wasn't the man she had met weeks ago when she and Silas had first come to know one another. That man had been kind, that man had cared for Silas and his happiness. _This_ man was a fraud. Amelia was so taken aback by this sudden attack on her character that she could barely speak in her defense. Aringarosa took her silence as a confession of guilt.

"I see that I have allowed poor Silas to walk into the snare of a seductress." This time Amelia was ready for his attack.

"That is the second time you have said I coerced Silas into do anything he didn't want to do." Now it was Aringarosa's face that burned red. Amelia continued she wouldn't tolerate much more.

"Now, how dare you come into _my_ home and accuse me of being, and I'm sure in your hypocritical eyes, a whore. I won't stand for it." At this point Aringarosa had to find a way to get her to leave Silas. Her reaction to his words told him that if anything she cared less for Aringarosa and grew more concerned for Silas.

"Silas was born for the church Miss Conway. He was born to commit too it ands serve God." Amelia shook her head.

"I believe what you're saying is that he was born to serve _you_." Aringrosa's teeth clenched. This slip of a woman was accusing him of using Silas to his own advantage. What frightened him was that she was right. Silas had become invaluable over the years he had stayed with the church. When he had met Amelia Conway, the angry woman before him, he had thought Silas' somewhat polar approach to life would turn her away. Silas' obsessive need of religion would have made any other woman leave in total aggravation. Amelia hadn't though and now Aringarosa felt the tug of war they were having.

"Have you not seen Silas' religious conviction?" Amelia gave Aringarosa a pitying smile. It seemed that if Silas left him, _he_ would be the one alone.

"I have seen a man who had nothing in his life to hold onto. He can still have that faith Father, but he can have it with someone at his side." Aringarosa's eyes closed to slits. If Amelia could have described in one word what she saw when she looked upon his face:

Snake, would have come to mind.

"It is not my usual custom to turn people away from the church Miss Conway," Aringarosa hissed, "but I must do what I can to protect Silas from those who would damn his soul."

"Damn his soul?" Amelia nearly shouted, "When did this become a matter of Silas' soul being condemned?" Aringarosa interrupted her, moving to the door,

"You have heard what I have to say, in a matter of days Silas and I will be leaving this church anyway, my appointment as Bishop requires Silas become closer to the church." Amelia shook her head putting her hand up as if to stop him.

"Leaving?" Aringarosa turned in a blur of robes, it seemed he had won this round.

"Yes Miss Conway, I have been found worthy to be appointed as a Bishop. We will be leaving shortly." Amelia felt sick. The color must have drained from her face because Aringarosa left knowing he had done Silas a great wrong. He closed the door with a sickening thud leaving Amelia to her own devices.

* * *

Silas was sweeping up the aisles of the church, he imagined it was a bit like sweeping away his own past. Allowing him to see the clean slate of his life. Amelia had erased all of the things he hated; everything that held him back no longer did so with her. The conversation he had had with Aringarosa weighed heavily on his mind. He held the man in great respect and wanted nothing more than to please him, however, if he did, he would lose the very thing he had wanted. To be loved, in more than just friendship from a Clergyman, he wanted Amelia. Maybe that was a sin, but for some reason Silas felt that it was not. If anyone knew, it would be him. 

Silas bent to sweep the dirt from the floor into the pan waiting at the end of an aisle. When he saw the hem of black robes come into his line of sight. He straightened to face his mentor. Aringarosa smiled at Silas, a far cry from the frustrated man of before.

"Father, I wanted to apologize for my words… I should not have been so harsh." Aringarosa brushed the apology away with a wave of his hand.

"No need to apologize Silas. I too was out of line. May we forgive these transgressions and speak of the future, over a simple dinner perhaps?" Silas was torn. He wished to make right a wrong between he and one of his oldest friends, but his desire to see Amelia again was strong. Aringarosa looked at him, waiting for an answer.

Reluctantly Silas agreed.

"Of course Father." Aringarosa bowed his head in appreciation and turned to leave,

"This evening then." Silas nodded. He would have to make it up to Amelia some other way.

When evening came, Silas entered Aringarosa's office, where a small table sat in the clear half of the room. Two elderly ladies that volunteered at church had prepared a small dinner; they cooked Aringarosa's meals, oftentimes with Silas' help. This evening Silas had finished his overlooked chores and made his way to Aringarosa's office.

"Silas, I am glad you've come." Aringarosa smiled at his charge, the pale man entering the room quietly, as was his way. He motioned for him to sit at the table and poured him a generous glass of wine.

"Have you thought any about our earlier conversation Silas?" Aringarosa queried as he put a chicken wing on his plate, passing the rest to Silas. Taking the plate Silas nodded tacitly. Aringarosa stopped spooning out the rest of his meal to look at Silas.

"Have you considered it at all?" Silas looked down at his food.

"I have Father."

"And?"

"I cannot leave what I have behind Father." Aringarosa sighed and set the spoon in his hand down, the metal clinking against the ceramic plate. To Silas that sound could have been a bullet heading for his heart. His head lifted quickly to meet Aringarosa's eyes.

"Silas, I truly do empathize with your predicament, but I must say that the connection you may feel for Miss Conway could be fleeting at best." Silas shook his head.

"I do not believe so Father." Silas' cheeks burned with shame for disagreeing but he wouldn't deem what he and Amelia had as a passing fancy. He didn't believe it was. Aringarosa rubbed his forehead,

"You have known Miss Conway for, what? A month?"

"A month and a half Father." Aringarosa shook his head. As if half a month truly made a difference.

"Silas, why put so much faith into such a short time, when your faith in God is so much stronger."

"Because I love her Father." Aringarosa wished he hadn't said that. The barrier he had tried build against Silas' feelings wasn't easy to keep strong. It was slowly crumbling against Silas' obvious love for this woman. Aringarosa attempted to reinforce it with the belief that even if Silas truly had fallen in love with Amelia Conway, she was simply using his Silas for whatever sordid reasons she had planned.

"The church's love is sure Silas, a woman's may not be." Silas couldn't meet his gaze any longer and looked around the office for something to focus on. He was afraid; terrified that Aringarosa's words were breaking through. His faith was strong and although he and Amelia were very much in love at the moment, who was to say everything he had felt in the last few weeks was meant to last.

Aringarosa saw Silas' faltering faith in his woman. He saw the familiar glint of religion in his eyes. He pulled apart the chicken wing on his plate, the bones breaking in ironic unison with Silas' heart.

As Silas once more became a pawn to the church and Aringarosa, Amelia opened an envelope that had been delivered by an elderly woman from Silas' church. Amelia opened it with shaking hands and was faced with three words in Silas' handwriting.

_I am sorry._


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

**A/N: Yes, a short chapter, but the end is very near readers, very near :0) There needed to be a bit of transition because there will be a bit of a jump in time. Keep on reading and reviewing please!  
**

* * *

The church was a flurry of moving boxes and elderly ladies bemoaning the loss of Father Aringarosa. Silas existed only because he had to. He packed books and personal items with no regard to what they were or which boxes he had put them in.

His melancholy and introversion had been caused by an earlier event, one in which he had made the journey to Amelia's apartment with a plan to ask if perhaps she would find a way to come with him, that while Aringarosa was appointed, they could find a way to be together. He had knocked on her door to no avail until the neighbor he had frightened away earlier came out once more and while avoiding his ice blue eyes told him that Amelia had left. She had paid one final rent for leaving before the lease was finished and had left. Apparently she would be sending for her things later.

The woman had once more retreated to her own apartment when Silas fell back against the door, the barrier between him and the memories of his happiness. He slid to the ground, the cold of the metal door catching his back as he did so. A precursor to the future tone of his life of pain. He had pressed his hands to his eyes, hoping to dam the flow of tears but failing as they spilled out over his snowy flesh.

He had lost.

What he didn't know, a normality he was also sadly unaware of, was that Amelia had come to the church early that morning to try and speak with Silas, to see that he hadn't made a terrible mistake and that they would continue on the path he had only just begun to walk freely. However, she had been intercepted by Aringarosa, the man behaving as a guard dog would over a precious artifact. He had escorted her off the premises, reassuring her that Silas had made his decision and was going to become one with God. His cruelness and smirk of victory had seemed true enough, leaving Amelia devastated.

She had lost.

When Silas had returned to the church with eyes red from weeping Aringarosa had embraced him in his fatherly fashion and made it clear to Silas that God would heal him and forgive him of any sin. The woman, Aringarosa had stated, was as Eve had been, curious and easily tempted. Only she was to blame.

_ He_ had won.

In his heart, Silas knew that Amelia was not the causer of his pain. But, seeing as he was alone once more was forced to silence his aching heart and quickly dashed the thoughts of his betrayal by his mentor. His torn state would leave him no choice to but to depend on Aringarosa, the light gone from his life. So here he was, packing up his tiny life to serve everyone but himself.

The last thing he packed was a small wooden crucifix. He stared at it for a moment, the edges of the cross digging into palms.

_Christ, give me strength._

He set the crucifix gently in the box, closing the flaps in hopes to protect Christ's eyes from looking upon him in his sinful state. It was a pointless endeavor, for that crucifix would see many more of Silas' attempts to cleanse himself of sin.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

**A/N: So this chapter is messing with the timeline, a bit. I'm currently scouring the book and have found that Silas was in the service of Aringarosa and Opus Dei etc. for ten years before coming back to France… That doesn't work with my story so I'm going to go with the movie timeline, where you have no idea how long he's been anywhere. Just wanted to clear that up before anyone let me know what an idiot I was being :0)  
**

* * *

  
It had been four years since Silas and Amelia had shown one another what it had meant to love someone, and four years since it had been ripped away by religious zealotry. Silas thought of Amelia often, even though his daydreams of what their future together might have been were fading. He saw her face clearly in his mind's eye; he wouldn't let himself forget that. He would remember every detail, every perfection, flaw, every freckle. He would remember.

Silas didn't believe he had a future anymore, aside from finding the Grail for the Teacher and Aringarosa. He had lost that chance four years ago, now he simply existed. In fact his heartache was only increased by the Teacher's sudden need for him to return to Paris. The thought of stepping foot on French soil once more was not a pleasant one at that. His memories of his father, his disappointment at having a son that lacked color pounded in his blood. He hated this country, knowing full well as a monk he should forgive all transgressions. This particular malevolence, he could not. Silas knew he must focus on the task at hand. He had been sent to Paris to find the most important of Priory leaders and to glean from them the information Opus Dei needed to destroy the Grail.

After he had murdered Jacques Saunière Silas had returned to his room, bare of any personal touch except the few signs of religion, the wooden crucifix lit by a single candle being the most prominent. He had to perform "corporal mortification" to cleanse the ever-growing list of sins he was forced to commit. He did this ritual daily. Whipping himself with The Discipline and puncturing the skin of his thighs with the Cilice. These things reminded him of the suffering of Christ and what he was murdering men for. It also kept his mind from wondering or finding distraction through the female sex. Not that Silas need worry about having his pale head turned by any woman, the only one who could do that, he had no idea where she had gone. He had wondered about that one night, before the Teacher had contacted him with his first duty. Had Amelia returned to Paris? Or had she gone back to one of the many places she had lived.

Had she left him entirely?

His thoughts had been interrupted by the ring of his cell phone and the low, gravel filled voice of the Teacher. This man had obtained new information pertaining to the Grail and required Opus Dei's help to find it. Bishop Aringarosa, as a prominent member of the Council of Shadows had been the first to fall prey to this "Teacher's" passion to find the Grail. As a result, he had willingly involved Silas in the hunt, sending his fair skinned pawn to do his dirty work, to carry the burden of sin and put his life at risk in the very middle of a war that was being fought by centuries old factions.

Silas had done it freely; disillusioned into believing it was the only way for his religion to survive. Now here he was, four murdered souls closer to Hell, beating himself to clear his blackened soul.

After the last stroke of The Discipline fell and Silas' cries had stopped echoing from the walls the monk washed his wounds to prevent infection. It would not be beneficial to Opus Dei if he were to die before the Grail was found. He slid his rough robes over his head, the woolen fibers catching at his newest wounds. He groaned in pain, knowing that the sting he felt only helped to cleanse him, to purify his soul once more. He rested for a moment, catching the breath that had been knocked free through pain. He prepared to leave his room once more, taking the time between instructions and self-flagellation to walk the streets.

Though his mission was dire he preferred to wander the city, to leave his barren room and reason with himself about the righteousness of his actions. As a child he had done this, looking to forget his father's disdain and learning how to defend himself. He wasn't particularly afraid of being hurt and the hour wasn't late, though the sun had already set. So he made the painful journey from his room to the ground floor, the cilice accomplishing its goal and tearing at already torn and scarred flesh. He gritted his teeth and hobbled down what seemed an endless incline until he finally reached even ground. The street lamps seemed to reflect from the translucent skin visible from his robes. He garnered a few stares, mostly for the strange shade of his skin, rather than his monk's robes. Missions to churches were not uncommon in Europe so his attire was less strange to passers-by than his bizarre skin color.

He ignored these looks and passed by several shops, pretending to be interested in their wares though he would never consider going in. That is until he passed an art gallery window. He would have moved on, the thought of art turning into a sorrowful reminder of Amelia and her charcoal blackened fingers that he would have died to kiss again. Art held only reminders for him therefore when he passed by this particular gallery, he hadn't intended on looking until something caught his eye. He brought his quick pace to a dead stop and turned to backtrack peering into the window.

There, in the middle of abstract paintings and less than flattering self-portraits was a painting of a little girl.

She couldn't have been more than three or four, her hair so gold it was almost white, her eyes an extraordinary shade of translucent blue but across the bridge of her nose and round cheeks was a spattering of freckles.

Silas nearly knocked the door of the shop down in his rush to enter. His entry was so sudden he startled the woman sitting behind the counter nearly off of her chair.

"That painting, who painted it?" Silas, asked, frantic for an answer.

"Which painting Monsieur?" the woman asked, composing herself of her earlier alarm. Silas pointed towards the window, his hands shaking.

"The one with the little girl." The woman gave a nod of recognition.

"Ah, oui. That is an original Conway monsieur. Amelia Conway is a local artist; she brings in her work every few weeks to sell. That particular painting has brought in quite a bit of business for us, so we decided to keep it an exhibition piece only."

Silas had stopped listening to the woman's snobbish prattling; looking towards the window, wishing the painting was still in plain view. He would have left then until it hit him that the woman had said they sold her work here frequently. He looked at the woman, who was still talking and interrupted,

"You said the artist brings her work here?"

"Oui monsieur."

"Does she live nearby?" The woman, one that Silas had come to regard as quite stupid, was reluctant to answer. Silas grew impatient.

"Please." The woman looked at him and saw that he was beyond desperate, his eyes were pleading with her to answer quickly. While she stared at him something about him became oddly familiar. Slowly she decided that familiarity was cause enough to help him.

"Oui monsieur, she lives only a short way from here. Perhaps I have her card, she sometimes takes portrait requests and models." The woman searched through a large stack of business cards, a rainbow of colors in her hand. Finally after what seemed an eternity of waiting she pulled a card from the pile, a plain white card that bore Amelia's name, profession and an address with which to send photos for portraits. Grateful Silas took the card and gave a rare smile to the woman at the counter.

"Bless you." Silas said clutching the card in his shaking fingertips. He left the gallery in just as much hurry as he had come in, stopping only to look at the painting for a few seconds more.

Silas knew, from the very bottom of his soul that this child was his.


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

**A/N: Second to last chapter readers. I'm almost sad to be finished. This has been a most pleasant experience to say the least. And writing this has been extremely fun for me because it has allowed me to expand my writing skills when it comes to human emotion. Anyway, we're almost done folks! Also, the song you'll find later on in the chapter is called "Lullaby" by Josh Groban, I don't own it, I just sing to it when it pops up on my music player. :0)  
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Silas' heart pounded as he drew closer to the address on the card, his mind a flurry of questions and fears.

What would he find when he got there? Would he discover Amelia with another man? Her soul entwined with his like it had with Silas' so long ago? Would he meet his daughter? Would she see she was his?

_What would happen?_

His feet had taken the route alone, as though he had traveled it thousands of times. His thoughts certainly had been too full of irksome questions for him to focus on where he was going. He stopped for a moment and stared at the building that housed his beloved Amelia and his newly discovered little girl. He wanted to know her, to call her name and have her run to him, to pick her up and hug her to his chest, never letting go. In the back of his mind, he remembered that soon he would be called with instructions to go to Saint Sulpice. Whatever reunion he may have, it would end with him being sent to a sinful duty once more.

According to the card, her apartment was on the ground floor. A God send for him, his legs throbbing from the cilice's torturing bite. He crossed the yard to the back of the building. Counting the windows Silas found the apartment and came to a set of French doors. He had learned to open these with little trouble, years ago. He did so now and slipped inside.

He wasn't sure why he had opted to break in, he supposed it was because knocking on someone's door after four years and expecting a pleasant greeting was out of the question. He entered almost silently, light on his feet despite the growing pain from his legs. He took in his surroundings, his eyes searching the dark to find he was standing in a kitchen. He gently closed the door behind him and moved in farther, his robes brushing the linoleum floor. He peered around the corner of the entryway trying to catch his bearings. Maybe she wasn't home, perhaps she and his child were off visiting someone or out for the evening.

He turned his head down the other direction and saw faint light coming from around the corner of the hallway. Silas followed it, keeping to the shadows. He looked around the corner keeping the rest of himself from view.

There she was.

His Amelia, sitting at a drawing table studying her work while using a knife to sharpen a pencil. She tilted her head to the side looking at her drawing from a different perspective a wisp of her hair falling into her eyes. She hastily pushed it out of the way keeping her eyes on her work. Silas attempted to move closer but as he did so a floorboard squeaked quite loudly. The scrape of knife against pencil stopped and Silas held his breath. He still hadn't thought out this meeting and he closed his eyes hoping Amelia would go back to her art. When it was silent for a few seconds Silas opened his eyes to see that Amelia's chair was now vacant.

In complete confusion Silas crept forward to see what had happened only to be attacked from behind. He felt a knifepoint poking against his back and heard Amelia's voice.

"If you move another muscle I will hurt you, do you understand?" Silas nodded, he didn't know how Amelia had gotten out of that room without his seeing but now he had to think of a plan and quickly. Amelia was one step ahead of him.

"Who are you? Remove your hood." Silas was quick to comply,

"You knew me once Amelia, forgive my intrusion." He pulled back his hood to reveal the telltale shock of white hair. He felt the knife drop from his back and a sharp intake of breath as Amelia realized who he was. He turned slowly trying not to scare her anymore than he already had. He understood his method of reaching her had been flawed but Silas had been desperate to see her once more. Amelia was looking at him as though she didn't believe he was real. She backed up, fingers still wrapped tightly around the knife.

"Silas?" He nodded.

"I found you Amelia." He saw her grip tighten,

"Found me for what exactly?" Silas looked at her sadly.

"Because you left Amelia, I didn't know where you had gone." Amelia's eyes grew wide, angry, sad, shocked a mixture of all of these running through her mind.

"I left because I was convinced there was nothing for me with you." It was Silas' turn to become confused.

"You were—convinced?" Amelia gave a dramatic nod,

"You yourself sent me a note Silas. A note you didn't even bother to sign I might add." Silas shook his head.

"I sent no note to you Amelia, I came to see you but you were gone." Amelia searched his eyes; she could see not only his confusion but also the scars of a life left unlived. She then made the connection between Silas and his denying sending her a note.

"Aringarosa." She exclaimed, her realization of how deep Aringarosa's treachery ran making her blood run cold. Silas looked at her questioningly Amelia explained,

"You never sent me that note, Aringarosa did, to make me think you didn't need me anymore… And it worked." Amelia grew angry with herself. Although after four years of having no idea where he was or what he was doing Amelia still loved Silas and more than anything she had wanted to see him again. She hadn't had any way of contacting him, the Catholic Church being very hushed about their holy men. Even Aringarosa had seemed to fall off the face of the planet. She had to go on without knowing what had become of Silas, if he had gone off on his own or if he had succumbed to allowing Aringarosa overtaking his life. She looked into his eyes again, wishing him to answer all of her questions in one glance. Those eyes had haunted her everyday since she had returned to Paris. He had no idea what she to had gone through since their forced parting.

They stood there, no longer sure of how to approach one another. After a moment Silas allowed the betrayal to sink in. Bishop Aringarosa had used his religious passion against him, blinding him to the potential future with Amelia. He broke down, a sob emitting from his mouth. He fell to his knees in front of her, his forehead resting against the soft and gentle swell of her belly. Here his child had grown without his knowledge, the creation of life had taken place and Silas had not been present to take responsibility for his family. Tears fell from his eyes, wetting the fabric of Amelia's shirt. After a fraction of second of hesitation Amelia rested her hands on Silas' head, her head falling back towards the heavens, her own tears beginning to escape from her eyes.

This crime of Aringarosa's would not go overlooked.

"Mommy?" A small voice broke the silence and Amelia's eyes snapped open, Silas hurried to his feet, though it was a struggle because of the cilice. Amelia looked up the stairs and faced the little girl peering through the railings.

"Mommy, what happening?" Amelia hurriedly wiped away her tears and smiled at her daughter.

"Nothing darling, go back to bed." But the little girl had already begun a journey down the stairs. Amelia looked from the girl to Silas, for some reason he didn't look surprised, if anything his face had softened and a smile played at the corners of his mouth. The little girl with hair so gold it was almost white and eyes made of ice, padded over to the two adults. She looked at the man dressed in a strange outfit standing in front of her mother. Her eyes met Silas' and she tilted her head in the way little children do, inspecting him.

Even at her tender age her mind made the connection that she and Silas looked oddly alike. After one final look to her mother to see if she disapproved she moved forward again and slid one tiny hand into Silas' large pale one. She looked up at him, big blue eyes watching him. Silas knelt so they were eye to eye; he wanted to look at her, to know every detail of the child he had helped create. She felt the tall man's hand shake like he was scared. She gave him a baby tooth filled smile and patted his cheek gently. Silas' eyes closed, the little fingers of his daughter resting on his cheek.

Never before had Silas been so joyful.

"Mommy, can I have water?" Silas opened his eyes to watch his little girl who now rubbed sleepily at her eyes. Amelia nodded, her cheeks were wet with tears again as father and child met for the first time.

"Of course baby, go back to bed and I'll bring you a cup." The little girl smiled tiredly and looked to Silas once more, her little face lighting the whole room. Finally she leaned forward quickly and pressed her face against Silas' forehead, giving him a child's version of a kiss and then quickly scampered up the stairs she had descended only a few moments before.

"Walk Rose, you'll get there just as quickly." Silas looked up at Amelia.

"Her name is Rose?" Amelia nodded and walked into the kitchen.

"It was my grandmother's name, she and I were close when I was little. I thought it a beautiful name for a beautiful baby." Silas was inclined to agree.

"I am sorry—I did not… If I had I would have…" Amelia silenced his fumbling words with a look.

"I'm not going to say it was easy finishing school when I was pregnant and when she was born. And, it's far from easy to raise a child on my own, But now that I know what was done to us…" she trailed off and turned to the cabinet, picking out a tippy cup and filling it with water. She turned as she twisted the top on facing Silas once more.

"I don't suppose it matters anyway, you're a monk. I've heard having families is a no-no." This was true, but Silas knew there had to be a way out. Had to be. He had helped create a life; he _was_ going to help raise it. Not just because an overwhelming sense of guilt had overtaken him for letting her begin the process alone, but because in less than five minutes his child had taken his hand, patted his face to make him feel better and had never once been scared of him. He wanted more than anything for her to know him, not as Silas the killer for the Church, but Silas her loving father.

Amelia went to excuse herself for a moment to take Rose her water. Silas however was more than willing to see his daughter once more. He climbed the stairs after Amelia and leaned against the doorframe watching as Amelia handed Rose her tippy cup, waiting as the girl took a few gulps and then handed it back to be set on a bedside table.

"Sing Mommy?" the little girl inquired, settling in under her covers once more. Amelia looked at Silas, slightly embarrassed that she would have to sing but Rose never went back to sleep without a song. Finally Amelia nodded and sat down beside her baby. She opened her mouth and began to sing a lullaby.

_Hush now baby don't you cry_

_Rest your wings my butterfly_

_Peace will come to you in time_

_And I will sing this lullaby_

_No though I must leave, my child_

_But I would stay here by your side_

_And if you wake before I'm gone_

_Remember this sweet lullaby_

_And all love through darkness_

_Don't you ever stop believing_

_With love forlorn_

_With love you'll find your way_

_My love_

_The world has turned the day to dark_

_I leave this night with heavy heart_

_When I return to dry your eyes_

_I will send this lullaby_

_Yes I will send this lullaby_

Silas closed his eyes and let the lullaby calm him. Amelia was far from an operatic singer, but her voice was pretty and soothing. This became obvious at Rose's soft breathing, sleep overtaking her. Silas watched the baby girl as she drifted away into a state of dreaming, tiny fingers curling around the edge of her comforter. He had known her all of five minutes but every fiber of his being longed to watch over her, to protect her from all the dangers of the world especially that of the war being fought between Opus Dei and the Priory.

Amelia got up and ushered Silas out the door, understanding his desire to watch her. She had felt the same way when Rose was first born, she wanted to hold her all the time, letting no one near her. The tiny life in her arms the greatest work of art she had ever created.

They stood in the dark hall again staring at one another in the shadows. After a moment Amelia flipped the hall light on and looked at her feet noticing then that a small blood trail had followed them up the stairs, ending at Silas' sandaled feet.

"Good Lord, Silas, your leg!" She immediately shooed him into a room next door settling him on the bed and looking to lift the hem of his robes to inspect whatever wound he had acquired. He tried to stop her but was met with a defiant glare.

"Silas you're bleeding, I want to know why. I'll tie you down if I must." He knew there was no arguing but he did not want her, of all people, to know of the cilice and it's great gaping maw consuming the flesh of his leg. Before he realized it Amelia had pushed the robe up. She gasped in horror at the sight in front of her. Silas' thigh was inflamed and red, caused by what could only be described as a vicious looking device wrapped around his leg. Amelia immediately went to remove it, but this time Silas would not allow it.

"Leave it."

"But Silas, your leg."

"It is what I deserve Amelia." Her green eyes bore into his.

"Is this a requirement of being a monk Silas? Because if it is I have never seen something so cruel in my life." Silas shook his head.

"I wear this and cleanse my soul in other ways. I must or my penance for my sins will be unfulfilled." Amelia shook her head.

"What has he done to you?" Silas was silent until Amelia straightened from where she had been inspecting the wounds on his thigh. She set her hand on his shoulder, her fingers pressing against an open wound from The Discipline. He inhaled sharply as the pain struck him and alerted Amelia to more of his cleansing rituals.

"Off, take the robe off." She said, her eyes flashing in anger. Silas shook his head.

"Amelia, no, it is—" Amelia silenced him.

"Silas, whatever you've got hidden under that robe I've seen at least once, hence the baby sleeping in the other room, but I swear if you don't take it off I'll do it for you." Silas sighed and stood, wincing as he slid the robe off, the wool hitting his wounds once more. Amelia saw his back, covered in scars and open wounds. Her anger bubbled over.

"So this is your religion Silas?" He looked at her over his shoulder as she gently touched his back, looking for signs of infection.

"My life involves much sin Amelia, I must cleanse my soul of it somehow." Amelia looked back,

"And what exactly do you do that causes so much sin Silas? What does the Bishop require of you that you must beat yourself and torture yourself in such a way?" Silas knew he could not answer. He wanted nothing more than to tell her, to tell her the terrible things he had done in order to lift the weight from his chest. He couldn't though, and he would never be able to for the rest of his life.

"I cannot tell you." Amelia stared at him and slowly shook her head.

"Why am I not surprised?" she pushed him back onto the bed and turned to leave the room.

"I'm cleaning those wounds Silas, stay here." She left for the bathroom leaving Silas to think. The little girl in the next room and the woman ranting in the bathroom were all he had, the most sacred, tangible people in his life. He wanted to stay with them, to know his daughter and to love Amelia, as he should have four years ago.

He made his decision. His duty to the church would continue until the Grail was found and destroyed. That much he felt was necessary. He truly believed that the exposure of the Grail would throw the Church into chaos and if he could help prevent that, he would. As for Opus Dei, he would no longer serve them; Aringarosa would just have to find another servant of God. For Silas was no longer going to fight their battles when he had a family to think of.

Amelia returned with antiseptic and cotton to clean the wounds. Just as she did, Silas' phone rang. He knew it was the Teacher telling him his path to Saint Sulpice was clear. He answered the phone and spoke to the Teacher in hushed tones. He knew Amelia didn't understand the language they were speaking but if there were any chance she find out what he was doing, he was sure her life would be in danger. Finally the Teacher ended their conversation and Silas moved to put his robes back on. Amelia, taking in the sight of Silas, the monk, taking a phone call and the fact he was leaving again didn't know what to say.

"Silas, your wounds." He waved off the cotton and anti-bacterial.

"They must wait." By then he had his robes on and he was preparing to leave. Amelia followed him as he hobbled down the stairs.

"Silas where are you going?" he stopped and looked at her once more.

"I cannot tell you." Amelia closed her eyes, her lips pressing together into a thin line. Secrets did not bode well with her.

"Will we ever see you again?" She asked, bringing their daughter back to his thoughts. Silas turned and leaned his forehead against Amelia's; they stood there for a moment.

"I hope so. If I accomplish what I must tonight, I will return. If not, I must wait." He understood her anger, she felt that Silas was going to ignore his responsibilities, to simply forget his obligation to help her raise the four year old girl sleeping upstairs. He put his hands around her upper arms, pulling her closer.

"I will return as soon as I can Amelia. I will not fail you again." Amelia's eyes rose to meet his.

"I hope not Silas. We've failed each other enough, let's not do it to her." Silas nodded and pressed his lips to her forehead. He could not kiss her any other way at the moment, not just because of his monk status, but because he knew if he tried he would never leave and leave he must.

He left the apartment building that night, his heart filled with dread at the thought of the keystone. If he found it, the Grail would be destroyed and he could go back to his life, now that he had something worth living for. If he failed, Opus Dei would force him to continue looking, to keep up the search for the Grail until it was found and wiped out of existence.

He prayed that tonight, it would be finished, for in his mind's eye all he could see was tiny fingers, curling around his own.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

**A/N: So here we are at the end my friends. I apologize for the slow update, however the weather here has been foul, leaving me in 3-5 inches of snow and below zero temperatures and a very cranky, frozen mood. I didn't want my writing to project that, so I waited till I was in a somewhat softer mood. Again, I am ever so grateful to my faithful readers and reviewers. It has been a pleasure. Please enjoy this final chapter :0)**

**Sequel anyone?  
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The crack of The Discipline and the sound of flesh ripping bounced across the walls.

He had killed a nun.

A woman who had simply followed misguided beliefs, one who had fallen into the trap of the Priory.

He had killed her.

The Discipline tore through the air, more of his flesh burned like fire hitting his very soul. As he allowed the pain to fill him, he saw Amelia's angry eyes, her horror at the state of his body.

The revelation of what might happen to him given his mission was yet to be complete. Saint Sulpice had accomplished nothing but more deception and death, for which he was paying for now. Silas was no longer sure he could justify what he was doing. His mind was full of Aringarosa's Hellfire and Brimstone while his soul told him he should fear what would become of it if he continued. He would pay for it sooner than later.

Silas realized that his part was more important than ever. He would most likely not survive it. Which cut all the more deep. He wasn't afraid of death, but dying and leaving all that he loved behind was not an option he wanted to take.

Amelia and Rose, the only two people in this world that mattered anymore. What would happen in the wake of his untimely death?

He didn't want to know.

With his cleansing complete, Silas attempted to clean his wounds. Hurrying to leave. Despite the long waits between instructions Silas did not want to waste another moment.

He had to see them one last time.

Silas left his barren room and found his way back to her door in seconds. This time he knocked. He could hear the patter of tiny feet outside the doorway.

"Mommy," came a little voice, "someone at door." This time Silas heard the heavier footfall of an adult. The light from the peephole disappeared.

"Thank you sweetheart, go back to your drawing." The lock of the door scraped as Amelia pulled it back and opened the door. She stood there framed by the doorway, light from her art room enveloping her in light.

"Silas, I didn't think you would be back so soon." She moved and let him in. He made his way into the hall and faced her as she shut the door; leaning back against it, hand still on the knob.

"I only have a short time before I must leave again." Amelia wasn't surprised as she let go of the door, stalking passed him.

"Ah, yes, the oh so secret monk work you do." Silas followed her to her studio.

"I had to see you both before I left—What I must do is dangerous." Amelia rounded on him.

"What is it exactly that you do Silas?" She hissed, "What impulsive idea of Aringarosa's are you following now? What's so important that you're going to risk never seeing your daughter again?" Silas stared at her, silenced by the onslaught of questions and his inability to give her an answer. Amelia shook her head, jaw clenched.

"I love you Silas. Isn't that enough? Isn't that worth something to you?" Silas looked hurt, how could she think otherwise.

"Amelia, it would be enough for me all the days of my life if I were not required to finish this duty." Amelia's face contorted into one of pain.

"And what about her?" She gestured into the studio. Silas followed her gaze and settled on the little girl sitting there. She was sitting at her own miniature drawing table, surrounded by a prism of crayons. She looked up from her work and saw her mother and the strangely dressed man. She waved at them, Silas waving tentatively back. Rose smiled and went back to work, her tiny toes brushing along the floor as she swung her feet. Silas had to smile sadly, remembering Amelia did that too, when she was concentrating. Amelia looked up at him expectantly.

"What about her," she asked again, "Does she ever get to know you?" Silas looked at her,

"You haven't told her who I am?" Amelia shook her head.

"Why would I tell her that you're her father? And break her heart when you don't come back?" Silas knew that Amelia fully understood the dangers, even if she didn't understand what he was doing. Slowly he agreed that it was for the best.

"She's smart Silas, she'll figure it out—if she hasn't already." Before he could answer Rose pushed her chair back and grabbed her paper, scattering crayons every which way.

"Look what I made!" Amelia looked at the picture, almost unable to keep her face composed. She handed the picture to Silas and bent over to kiss her daughter's face.

"It's beautiful Rose." The little girl beamed and hurried back to her desk to begin a new work of art. Silas looked at the picture, his heart nearly stopping as he saw what she had drawn. As accurate as a four year old could be, she had drawn her own depiction of a woman, Amelia, with ketchup red hair and lopsided green eyes, holding onto a man in a brown robe and crossed blue eyes. Between the two of them was a version of herself, a mop of nearly white hair and eyes that matched his own. What shook him to the core however was seeing that the drawing of Amelia was colored in with a light tan, however he and Rose were colored in with pure white, even though her baby skin contained more color than Silas' ever had. That alone made Silas realize Rose was not oblivious.

She knew.

Just then the cell phone hidden within his robes rang, Amelia flinched, the silly default ring had become synonymous with pain, separation, and loss. The very sound pierced her heart. Silas moved away from the doorway. Speaking quietly to the person on the other end of the phone. Even so Amelia caught a few words,

"Si, rector."

Didn't that mean teacher?

"Chateaux Villette… Si."

Amelia understood now. Silas was being sent to specific locations, but for what? Silas turned the phone off and looked over his shoulder at her, turning after a moment attempting to find the right words to comfort her. It was fruitless since he couldn't find the words to comfort himself. He walked to her, holding Rose's artwork.

"May I keep this?" Amelia pointed at Rose.

"Ask her." Silas watched Amelia, unsure. Her eyes told him if he was to leave again, then he must say goodbye somehow. He entered the room and knelt beside Rose, now she was drawing what appeared to be a polka dot covered dog. She looked up from her drawing and smiled shyly at Silas. How someone so small could have such an affect on him, Silas didn't understand, but his heart melted every time he was near her.

"I have to go Rose, but… Could I… Could I take this with me?" he said showing her the picture. Rose tilted her head and looked at him with big blue eyes. She nodded, the two braids her white gold hair had been woven into shook back and forth as she did so.

"Yes, I drew it for you." Silas smiled at her, matching her shy look.

"Thank you Rose, it is beautiful." The little girl's smile widened and she put a small hand on Silas'. They stayed like that for a moment until Silas reminded himself of his duty. He straightened only because he had to, he didn't want to leave. He leaned over and placed a kiss lightly on her forehead, the last moment he had with his baby girl.

Finally he turned to leave, the blasphemers he was chasing were close, and he needed to find them. Amelia stood in front of the door again, this time it appeared she was blocking it. Silas stopped. Amelia couldn't meet his eye.

"Amelia, I must go."

"You _must_ take care of your family."

"Amelia I promise you, if what I must do is accomplished, I will return and we _will_ be a family." Amelia didn't move.

"Promises are empty until they're actually fulfilled." Silas looked at her sadly.

"Then all I can do is try." Amelia closed her eyes, tears slipping from underneath the lids. Silas couldn't bear to see it. He moved forward so fast Amelia didn't realize what he was doing. He took her face in his hands and kissed her hard, letting out a cry against her lips. He kissed up her mouth until he had kissed her tears away. He let her go and she reluctantly moved.

"Come back Silas." He touched her face one last time as he left,

"If I don't… Tell her about me."

And, he left, leaving Amelia feeling as she had four years ago, alone and with child, never to see him again.

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Silas had left hours ago. Amelia couldn't even remember what day it was, laying there on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She loved that man. So much she had lost him once more into the depths of religion. When he had left Amelia had never felt more alone. His final kiss burned into her memory, she knew he loved her as well, but to see him go with what seemed like so little regard for his tiny family was painful.

Then again, Aringarosa had won all those years ago; it wasn't surprising when it happened again.

Amelia's eyes snapped to her door to see Rose push it open, her favorite stuffed bear clutched in one hand.

"What's wrong darling?" she asked as Rose came over to the side of her mother's bed, leaning against it.

"Bad dream Mommy." Amelia lifted up her blankets and ushered her little daughter in. Rose climbed under and snuggled up against her mother.

"Now, what happened in this bad dream?"

"I saw angels Mommy. They were white and they said, they said, I can't get to Heaven because I look funny." Amelia was stunned.

"And what gave you the idea that you look funny?"

"My hair and my eyes are funny." Amelia kissed the top of her daughter's head.

"Haven't we talked about this before? When Mommy said your hair was like white gold, Mommy's favorite kind of precious metal, and your eyes, what did I tell you your eyes are? So blue that they're the…" Rose finished,

"Windows into heaven." Amelia nodded and tickled Rose's side, making the little one giggle.

"Now don't worry Rose, God makes us all a certain way, he thinks you're beautiful, not funny looking." Rose nodded in solemn agreement.

"Just like Daddy?" Amelia looked at her daughter in stunned silence.

"Just like who?" Rose pointed at her eyes,

"Daddy, he has eyes just like me." Amelia felt her heart break. No point in lying now.

"Yes Rose, just like Daddy." Rose gave a contented smile and snuggled deeper against her mother. After a few moments she fell asleep, her soft breathing calming Amelia.

The room was completely dark when Amelia woke with a sharp pain in her chest. She didn't know what it was, only that it had woken her and was persistent for a few moments. She carefully pulled her arm out from underneath Rose's head and slid her legs out from under the covers. She filled a glass with water and took a moment to tire herself out once more, flipping on the TV to watch a repeat of the BBC news. She took a sip of water just as top stories came on.

_This news just in, apparently police were involved in a shooting that included two members of the Conservative Catholic group known as Opus Dei. One member involved was a prominent Bishop of the church as well as a monk. The Bishop was shot once in the shoulder, surviving the shooting and being treated in an undisclosed location. The monk was shot four times after disregarding police warnings to drop his weapon. He died at the scene. As of now no new information as to why--_

Amelia was no longer listening, her heart stopped beating. The glass fell from her hands, shattering across the floor, water pooling like blood at her feet. A sob tore through her throat, her legs stopped supporting her and Amelia was left to stumble back against a wall, sliding down it until she was curled upright, her knees stabbing against her chest.

"OhGodOhGodOhGod." Amelia's hands pressed to her bosom, her very heart feeling as though it was being stabbed through. It had all come to this, the price Silas had been willing to pay to do what he thought were great works for the church; anything to please the Bishop who had survived with a flesh wound. Amelia sat there, waiting for something, as the sun rose, perhaps she thought Silas would come through the door again; smiling saying he had done what he should have years ago. Letting Aringarosa pay for his own sins. To have him pull her into his strong arms and tell her that she would never have to worry again, that they would be together and raise their child, together.

He never came.

Amelia raised her head from her knees; her tears dry, only because she had none left to give.

As she lifted her face, the light of the sun shone through the veil of red hair hanging over it, the rays of sunlight filtering through the clear green of her eyes. It seemed it was pointing towards a section of wall, where a sketch hung, within a simple wood frame.

A man, with haunting eyes and perfect hands stared back at her.

She was not alone.

For it's not a matter of how one shows their faith, but having faith at all that defines them.


End file.
